


Exploration

by thievinghippo



Series: Sonya Shepard [5]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 21:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2125101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thievinghippo/pseuds/thievinghippo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Suicide Mission, Garrus and Shepard finally have time to get to know each other properly...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exploration

**Author's Note:**

> “Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore.” - André Gide

Neither one of them pay much attention to the vid.

Garrus is far more interested in the way Shepard’s shoulder fits under his arm and the way her thigh presses against his. He wonders how obvious he would seem if he takes off his gloves.

Shepard lets out a yawn and his heart constricts. He shouldn’t be this nervous, not after two other visits to her cabin and certainly not when they’ve already had sex three times. Yet there’s a jittery feeling in his chest, one Garrus hoped would have disappeared the minute they agreed this isn’t simply blowing off steam. But it’s still there.

“This vid is awful, isn’t it?” Shepard says with a snort.

She’s right. The vid’s about a former asari pro-Biotic Ball player who starts coaching a group of vorcha. Her choice, not his, thank goodness. He’d already brought bad wine and bad music the first night. Didn’t need to add bad vid to the pile. 

“I’ve seen worse,” Garrus says diplomatically.

Letting out a laugh, Shepard sits up and punches him lightly on the shoulder.  “High praise coming from you.” Her brow furrows and she rolls her right shoulder, the one she dislocated saving his life in the Collector Base.

“Shoulder bothering you?” Garrus asks, pushing aside the fear he felt that day, tumbling down the platform, sure that he would fall over the edge into the abyss. But somehow Shepard managed to break his fall and pull him back onto the platform.

“Nah, it’s fine,” she says, turning towards him. “Little twinge here and there. This shoulder’s just never been right since… I woke up.”

“Ah,” Garrus says, not sure of the appropriate response. She’s not talked much - if at all - about her resurrection, and he doesn’t feel like it’s his business to pry, especially when he doesn’t want to think of her dead.

She rolls her shoulder again, then stretches her arms high above her head, causing her shirt to rise up, giving Garrus a generous view of her waist. His gloves are off almost at once and he places his palms just above her hips, feeling solid muscle beneath her soft skin. Such a beautiful contradiction.

But then his brain starts kicking and screaming, and Garrus removes his hands at once. Stupid basic. As much as he wants to touch her right now, he needs to ask first.

Shepard’s eyes narrow, only slightly. Her look is one he recognizes; she’s trying to piece something together. Garrus tries not to feel anxious under her scrutiny. Before Garrus realizes she’s moved, Shepard’s straddling his lap, leaning back, still studying him.

“Is this a turian thing?” Shepard asks as she places her hands on his shoulders.  “Asking for, what, permission? Consent? To touch me?”

Garrus nods, not quite meeting her eyes. He has no idea how to explain the concept simply. It’s so ingrained in every turian once they join the military: do not touch another being without their consent. He wonders what it says about humans that it’s not.

“Is there anything I can say to give you sort of a blanket consent?” Shepard asks, her voice low and inviting. “Such as when we are alone in this cabin you may touch me anywhere you please?”

He lays his palms on her knees and slides them up her thighs slowly, before resting them on her ass. Consent’s been given for the night. “Doesn’t work like that,” Garrus says, pulling her flush against him. He’s not prepared to discuss cultural issues tonight, not when he feels her breath whispering against his hide. “Eventually I’ll stop asking.”

Her lips press against his neck. “Alright,” she says. “I’ll try to remember to say something so you don’t have to ask every time.”

“You don’t have to-”

She sits up and holds onto his collar. “I want to,” she says, tilting her head. “Have you been giving me permission?”

Garrus grins. Of course she latches onto that. “Sub-vocally, yeah, I have.”

Her fingers start drawing patterns on his throat - the touch light and delicate - causing him to inhale sharply. “I’m missing a lot, aren’t I?” she asks. “By not understanding your sub-vocals?”

“You understand a lot of them,” Garrus says. And it’s true. She’s learned the ones he uses for day to day operations: pride from a good kill, frustration over a bad shot, even fear from those damn rides in the Mako. But there are completely different ones to be used at night.

“Ah, but I want to understand the sexy ones, Vakarian,” Shepard says with a sly grin. She takes her hands and balls up some of the fabric of his tunic in her fists. “The _sexy_ ones.” Shepard grinds against him once, just once, but the friction is enough to make Garrus groan, sub-vocals screaming of _want_. Leaning forward, Shepard whispers at his ear canal, “Like that one. How do you get me wet with just a single sound?”

Garrus tightens the grip on her ass and stands up. They need to get into bed and get into bed _now._ Thankfully it only takes a few steps before she’s wiggling out of his arms to sit on the edge of the bed. He starts unlatching the buckles of his tunic, aware how Shepard’s eyes follow his hand’s every move. Just as he’s reached the last buckle, Shepard gently swats his hands away and unbuttons the latch herself.

There’s a look of satisfied triumph on her face as he pulls his tunic over his head. Without thinking, Garrus leans forward and kisses her, his tongue slipping between her lips. Moaning into her mouth, Garrus reaches down and starts to lift her top over her head.

But then the chants of cheering vorcha breaks the spell. Shepard pulls away, laughing louder than Garrus has heard before. “Turn it off, oh god, turn the vid off!”

The vorcha are still chanting, a unified screech almost, as Garrus fumbles to open his omni-tool. Shepard flops back on the bed, one hand curled into a fist, covering her smile and muffling her laughter, while the other hand splayed across her belly.

Her mirth makes annoyance impossible and once he stops the vid, Garrus rests his hands on knees, laughing himself. Any nervousness he had disappears and for the first time since he entered her cabin days ago, saying “I’ve got wine,” he feels completely at ease.

Her eyes are shining as she reaches out her hand. Garrus straightens himself up and says, laughter rumbling in his subvocals still, “Did I just get cockblocked by vorcha?”

“You’re never going to let me choose the vid again, are you?” Shepard asks as he places her hand in his. She pulls herself up and while there’s still laughter on her face, his visor tells him her pulse is climbing and her body temperature rising.

As Shepard pulls his trousers down over his hips, Garrus says, “I dunno, Shepard. I can think of a few ways I could be persuaded.”

Her fingertips are at his waist, digging into his hide. “Only a few? You need a better imagination.”

Garrus lets out a groan, thinking of yesterday and how she demanded he show her how to touch him properly. Garrus gladly complied, with the understanding today is his turn to learn how to make her squirm.

“Thought we agreed that I’m the explorer tonight. You had your fun.”

“We did, didn’t we?” Shepard says, crawling to the head of the bed, and sitting against the headboard. Without another word, she takes off her top and throws it to the floor.  Her bra follows quickly after that. Garrus feels himself getting hard inside his sheath as she raises her hips to remove her underwear and shorts.

She lies naked on her side, her head propped up by an elbow. Garrus crosses his arms over his chest and swallows. Loudly. He gives himself a minutes to simply look at her and catalogue what he sees. Distinguishing characteristics. The most obvious one is an ugly scar on her left thigh. If he doesn’t know any better, he’d say someone stabbed her with an actual knife, not an omni-blade. There are other scars, but none that stand out, the rest are ones that every soldier has when they’ve been a fighter long enough. Garrus has plenty of his own.

His plates start to spread and Garrus wonders if he’s made a mistake. Suddenly, ‘fuck first, then explore’ seems like a much more tactically sound plan. But then he thinks of all the places on her body that he has yet to touch, a mistake he plans on correcting tonight.

The first time they had sex, nerves kept him from taking the time to learn Shepard’s body. The second, they were both so goddamn relieved to be alive after the suicide mission, exploration was secondary. The third time was Shepard’s turn to explore. But now?

He has _hours._

The lights in the cabin are still low from when they watched the vid. The only sound is a thrum, deep from his chest. He takes a minute to remove his trousers and feels only relief as his groin plates have room to spread completely.

As he lays down on the bed, Shepard grabs his collar and kisses him roughly. “You’re eager,” Garrus whispers.

“Start exploring,” Shepard whispers back.

It’s a heady feeling, being wanted by Shepard. She reaches out and touches his visor before Garrus can turn his head. He has every intention of using the biometric feedback as he works.

“Oh no, mister. You do not get that unfair advantage in bed.”

Good old-fashioned detective work it is, then.

With an exaggerated sigh, Garrus takes off his visor and places it on the nightstand. His hand moves up to her head, which hasn’t been shaved in a few days. She leans into the touch, so he takes the tips of his talons and draws circles on her scalp. Shepard lets out a soft moan. “That feels good,” she says.

Garrus pauses, trying to figure out exactly what _good_ means this time. She uses the word a lot, he’s noticed, especially when it comes to sex. He wonders if the top of the scalp is an erogenous zone for humans, like underneath the fringe for turians. “What kind of good?” he asks after a moment, deciding he’d rather be certain than make a mistake.

A throaty laugh escapes her lips as Shepard turns over onto her back. “Nice good,” she says, giving him a smile he can only consider sultry. “Now this,” she adds, taking his hand and placing it on her breast, “feels _good._ ”

Three days, Garrus realizes sadly, isn’t enough time to be attracted to breasts. The first time they had sex, Garrus pretty much ignored them, not being sure exactly how to touch them. The vids hadn’t been much help there. He wishes he could see her breasts like a human male, but instead his palms itch to feel her waist and hips. Taking the pad of his thumb, Garrus draws slow circles on her nipple and wonders why it’s a different color than the rest of her skin.

She places her hand on her other breast and brushes her nipple. Garrus imitates the move, getting a feel for the different textures. She circles her nipple with her fingertip and Garrus does the same with his talon, taking the time to feel each small bump. The way Shepard’s breath hitches and her hips buck almost involuntarily tells him he is doing something very right. And when he rolls her nipple between his thumb and first talon, she lets out a stifled groan.

“Tongue works really well there, too,” Shepard says with a bit of a gasp.

He’s always willing to press and advantage, so he leans forward and moves her hand away, licking her nipple. Now she lets out an audible moan, causing Garrus to flick out his mandibles in a grin. While his tongue lingers, Garrus takes his hand and begins to massage under her arm.          

The moaning stops.

“Um, Garrus?” Shepard asks, an apology in her voice, placing a hand under his mandible. “Armpits aren’t really sexy to humans.”

He pauses mid-stroke and moves his hand. His neck warms in embarrassment, having done exact that he didn’t want: assume humans like the same things as turians. Turians love having their underarms touched and licked, being one of the few places with no plates or scales, just hide.

“Sorry,” he says, hearing another apology in his subvocals as he brushes a talon across her cheek.

“Don’t apologize,” Shepard replies immediately. “I wasn’t sure if I should have said anything…”

Garrus props himself up on an elbow. “Shepard, better to figure these things out now rather than later.” And he means it. They needed to find their own way when it came to sex and honesty will be vital to figuring out how to make it work.

“True,” Shepard says, turning onto her side to face him.

Her fingers start stroking the sides of his sheath, the pressure just enough to cause his cock - hard and ready - to slide out. He sighs, relieved the feeling of being trapped behind his sheath is gone. Shepard strokes him once, but Garrus grabs her hand. “It’s still my turn,” he says, lowering his voice. Garrus knows exactly where he wants to explore next and decides a little leverage is needed.

Shepard looks at him with her head tilted in confusion as he kneels at the side of the bed. “What are you-” She stops speaking the moment he grabs her thighs, dragging her to the edge of the bed, her calves on his shoulders.

Placing his hands on her hips, Garrus takes a moment to just look. Turian women have plates and sheaths, just like men, so to see Shepard’s cunt, bare and exposed except for a thin strip of hair, is a revelation. Shepard squirms a bit as he runs his talons lightly over the inside of her thighs. And then he leans towards her, taking a deep breath. She smells slightly sweet, with a hint of tanginess, and he’s not willing to wait any longer to taste her.

Her fingers grasp the comforter as he delves his tongue into her cunt. “Oh fuck,” she says, her voice breathless. She clenches around his tongue and it’s all Garrus can do to keep himself from sitting up straight and replacing his tongue with his cock. His own breathing becomes uneven as he starts to lick, concentrating on her clitoris. He will never, ever understand why humanity evolved this way, with the clit not resting on the vaginal wall, like a turian woman, where stimulation is guaranteed. But then Garrus forces himself to stop thinking like a turian, and instead to concentrate only on Shepard.

When Garrus pulls his face away to sneak another look at her, Shepard is propped on her elbows, watching him work. She’s breathing heavily and he doesn’t need his visor to know her pupils are dilated and her pulse raised.

“Please don’t stop,” she says softly. In response, Garrus takes his talon and gently slides it into her cunt. Shepard flops back down, exhaling loudly. With his other hand, his grips his cock, stroking twice, just twice, to calm himself down. He’s not done exploring.  Fucking will wait.

Removing his talon from her cunt, Garrus moves it lower, to her ass, a place he has sadly ignored the first three times they had sex. He pushes the tip of his talon into her ass, feeling a heat and friction different than her cunt but just as welcome. Shepard’s eyes fly open. “What are you- Garrus - you can’t-”

He takes out his talon the moment he hears the word ‘can’t.’ “Shepard?” he asks uncertainly, hoping he didn’t cross a line.

“Sorry, sorry,” Shepard says, her voice small, her cheeks redder than he’s seen before. “I didn’t expect you to… It’s just, damn, how do I say this? A little deviant. Like turian tongue kissing.”

With the palm of his hand, he starts rubbing the cheeks of her ass. “Hate to break it to you, Shepard, but you’re having sex with a turian. You are a little deviant.” He leans forward and licks her slit once. “So stay away from your ass?”

“No, you can,” she says, closing her eyes tight. “It’s just, just I’ve never had anyone do that before.”

Garrus swears he can feel even more blood rushing to his cock that he might be the first something, _anything_ for her. And the hint of pride he feels that his will be the first talons in her ass and maybe down the road, his cock too, is petty and dumb, but he can’t help it.

Taking his other hand, Garrus coats his talon in her wetness and then very deliberately slides into her ass. It’s warm, warmer than her cunt, almost hot. He pushes in a little more, feeling how tight she is and wondering just how good her ass would feel around his cock.

He looks up and Shepard is squirming, wiggling her hips down, trying to push his talon even further in to her ass. The sight almost makes him come undone and he places his free hand on her belly, holding her still, as he slowly fucks her ass with his talon. Her face is scrunched up tight, her hands clenched into fists, and when Garrus circles her clit with his tongue, Shepard lets out a moan, loud and uncaring to the rest of the world, leaving his cock desperate for attention.

“You need to fuck me now,” Shepard says, her voice harsh. “Oh god, please. I need you inside me, Garrus.” No other invitation is needed. Garrus climbs on the bed next to her, wondering which position will get his cock into her cunt the fastest. But Shepard has other ideas. “This,” Shepard says as she pulls him on top of her, “is human missionary position.” His breath hitches as he quickly puts weight on his forearms, not wanting too much pressure on her.  She cranes her neck so her mouth is right next his ear canal. “You’re gonna really like this one.”

The position would be impossible between two turians, with their breast bones.  But with Shepard, he sees how it would work, his keel bone resting in between her breasts. Taking his cock in hand, he lines himself up, then with a moan, enters her warmth. He stays still for a moment, getting used to the position, before resting his brow against Shepard’s. And then he starts to thrust, getting lost in pleasure almost at once.

“Wait, Garrus - ow,” Shepard says, closing her eyes tightly. “Stop, please.”

He sits up without hesitation, ignoring the way his cock twitches at the loss of wetness. “Shepard, you okay?”

She rolls over to her side and reaches down to the floor. His mind is reeling. _What went wrong?_ When she sits up, Shepard is holding the top she was wearing. He looks her over and sees red marks forming on her torso, marring her breasts. It’s enough to make him want to put his head in his hands in shame.

_Chafing._

“Does it hurt?” he asks as she pulls the top over her head.

“No,” she says, lying back down. “I think if we kept going it would though.”

Garrus gives his cock a couple of strokes; the thought of chafing certainly doesn’t help to keep him in the mood. “Want to try a different position?” he asks, trying to keep the disappointment out of his subvocals. Having her underneath him like that, damn. Only a few thrusts and he had a new favorite position. But not if it hurt her.

Shepard reaches out and tugs on his collar, bringing his face to hers. She’s blushing again, something he’s sure will never get old, seeing the redness in her cheeks.  “I really liked that,” she says in a whisper. “You on top of me.”

She doesn’t need to say anything else. Garrus settles himself between her legs and takes a moment to memorize everything. The way her belly presses against his. How her now covered breasts feel against his carapace. How her feet rests lightly on his spurs while he adjusts himself and plunges into her.

This time Shepard doesn’t wait for him to thrust, she raises her hips to take him in deeper. He times his thrusts to hers as she hooks her knees over his hip spurs. The slight change in angle gives him more leverage, lets him thrust harder. He knows by the pressure building in his belly he’s going to come soon, and it’s going to be _good._

Shepard’s moaning and talking quietly underneath him, half of what she says isn’t caught by his translator. Her hands are on his neck, stroking and scratching, like he showed her yesterday. She raises her knees higher along his carapace, and Garrus pauses in his thrusts, wanting to feel the silky soft skin of her inner thighs against his waist again. Shepard opens her eyes at once, her brow furrowed, silently asking why he stopped. He responds by resting his entire body weight on her - just for one moment - but long enough to settle her knees over his hip spurs again.

Her laugh is one of delight as he nuzzles her neck before thrusting again. He’s given her a tool, one he won’t mind if she uses often. After all, how many tools did she give him tonight?

Shepard throws her head back, a move he recognizes from yesterday; she’s ready to come. So Garrus rests his weight on one forearm, while placing his other hand between her legs, rubbing her clit, repeating a move she did their first night together. Her legs tighten around his waist and Shepard comes undone.

His breath catches, his senses full of Shepard. The way she tastes as he licks her neck, the sound of her cunt and moans, the pure need he sees when their eyes meet, how she smells like sweat and sex, and the way she clenches around his cock as she comes. So alien and familiar at the same time. And in that moment, watching her come, he knows he’s found his something right 

All it takes is a few more thrusts, and Shepard’s nails digging into his neck to bring him to orgasm. He touches his brow to hers as he comes, feeling her clench around him still, making his climax last as long as possible.

Garrus closes his eyes when he’s done and rests. This position required a different set of muscles than he’s used to and he’s not too proud to admit he’s tired. But then Shepard squirms a bit underneath him so he rolls to his side. She turns and leans her back against his carapace. “This is called spooning,” she says with a yawn. “I thought if you wanted to stay the night, this might be a comfortable position to sleep in.”

“You want me to stay the night?” he asks into the back of her neck as he wraps his arms around her waist. He feels a new ache, deep in his chest, one which has nothing to do with the sex they just shared.

“Very much so,” she says, entwining her fingers with his talons. They’re quiet for a few minutes, the only sound in the cabin their breathing and the bubbling of the fish tank.

He’s a little uncomfortable; he could use another pillow under his neck, but he’s never had more desire _not_ to move in entire life. Not with Shepard drawing lazy circles into his palms with her fingertips.

“Get enough exploring done?” she asks and Garrus can hear the smile in her voice.

Garrus lets out a huff of a laugh. “Not even close,” he admits.

“I’m not done, either,” Shepard says. “Looks like we’ll have to keep doing this until we’ve both explored every single inch.”

Tiredness keeps him from snapping off the witty reply he’s sure she expects.  Instead, Garrus simply presses his mouth plates to her shoulder. “Good,” he whispers, flicking his mandibles so they brush her skin.

Shepard lets out another yawn, this one serious, and Garrus props himself up on an elbow to watch her fall asleep. In only a matter of minutes, her breathing is even and she’s completely loose in his arms and he knows he will never tire of this, of her.

He drags the pad of his thumb down her tricep, a muscle he’s seen her work on strengthening again and again. There’s still so much to learn, about the back of her knees, the bottom of her feet, the sculpted muscles in her back.

That’s where he’ll start tomorrow, he decides as he closes his eyes, ready for sleep. Her back.


End file.
